


Pokerface

by DorianWilde



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 13:06:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DorianWilde/pseuds/DorianWilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous prompted: </p><p>Ghost!River going back on her past and walking around naked while the doctor is in official meetings and only he can see her.</p><p> </p><p>“How do I look?” River struck a pose, fez balanced on her bounceable hair.</p><p>“Naked,” the Doctor said, because, well, she was.</p><p>“Oh, you noticed.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pokerface

”-which means they’ll destroy the entire universe!” exclaimed the commander of the Second Star Fleet in the Great and Bountiful Human Empire. The ship shook as another bomb exploded against its hull.

“ _Yowzah_!” The Doctor stared openmouthedly at something over her shoulder.

“… Doctor?” the commander waved her hand in front of his eyes.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” The Doctor looked sheepish, making a visible effort to focus on the commander’s face.

“Doctor, this is serious,” she told him sharply.

“Yes, yes. Of course. Yes.” The Doctor nodded, once again glancing over her shoulder. “I mean, big boobs. _Bombs!_  Big bombs and grenades and other bad stuff. Let’s see what I can do about it!”

-‘-‘-

“What we need is a plan!” the Doctor said passionately, slamming his fist down on the table.

“No-one is denying that, Doctor,” Martha said, raising an eyebrow. “That’s why I called you.”

“Oh, well,” the Doctor cleared his throat. “You don’t happen to have one, do you? A plan, that is.”

“We were hoping you could help us formulate one,” the general said, the other people gathered in the conference room nodding their agreement.

“Yeeaahh.” The Doctor seemed to be stalling, fiddling with his bow tie. He sat back down on his chair. Or, almost. Just at he was about to sit down he glanced up, made an “eeep” sound, missed the chair and wound up on the floor.

Martha quickly jogged over to help the flailing alien up. “Are you okay?” she asked worriedly.

“Uh-huh, yep. Right as rain. Calm as a cucumber and all that,” he rambled, eyes fixed on a point on Martha’s right hand side.

“Are you sure?” Martha asked, frowning. “You look a bit flustered.”

“That is because… I had chilli seeds for dinned. With tabasco. And nipples.  _Skittles_. Chilli and tabasco _skittles_. Very thirty first century, you know.” He dusted his trousers off.

“Okaaay. So, about the nhwe-thia’an fleet above London…” Martha said carefully, a bit bewildered by his behaviour. She was used to the Doctor being weird, just not  _this_   _kind_  of weird.

“Why is it always London? On Christmas?” He shook his head. “Why aren’t  _Torchwood_ handling this? What are they up to? Don’t answer that, the less I know about Jack’s shenanigans the better.”

-‘-‘-

“River, this has got to stop,” the Doctor said firmly, putting on his I’m-Really-Serious face.

“Why?” She smirked, gracefully walking across the president’s sitting room. The Doctor had just left the meeting with the newly elected president of the  _Aaarnehs_ , the people in control of the entire Aarthakka-system. They’d been discussing Important Stuff, like peace treaties and how red really was the Doctor’s colour and could the president perhaps borrow the Doctor’s fez sometime?

The Doctor wasn’t sure exactly what more had been said because River had suddenly showed up, distracting him. Of course, no-one else could see her as she was dead…ish. The My-Body-Got-Fried-And-Now-I-Live-In-A-Giant-Computer kind of dead.

Anyways.

She’d been showing up when the Doctor was busy Saving the World, distracting him. She was good at distractions, but lately she’d outdone herself.

“Because-”

“Doctor, who are you talking to?” Clara asked, just entering after – well, the Doctor wasn’t sure what she’d been up to. Hopefully nothing that would make them wind up in jail. Again.

“Spirit-creatures. You have to have two hearts and a fez to see them.”

“That thing is ghastly, sweetie. If the president borrows it I strongly suggest you forget reminding him to return it.”

“Absolutely not, you madman. Woman. Whatever.” He glared at River, forcefully keeping his eyes on her face.

“Right. I’ll just…” Clara gestured towards the door she’d entered through. “Doctor, are you blushing?”

“ _No_.” He touched his burning cheeks, willing them to cool down. “Now shoo. I’ll see you later. Fancy-schmancy dinner at eight.”

“Sure.” She rolled her eyes at him before leaving. Sassy brat.

“Hey!” The Doctor tried, in vain, to grab his fez.

“How do I look?” River struck a pose, fez balanced on her bounceable hair.

“ _Naked,_ ” the Doctor said, because, well, she was. Very much so. Except for the fez, which didn’t really do much for her modesty.

“Oh, you noticed.” She smirked again, correcting the fez.

“Well, it’s very obvious,” the Doctor frowned, shuffling his feet. “And I demand it stop! Right now.” He was putting his foot down. Hah!

“Oh sweetie.” She sauntered over, pinching his cheek. “Of course not.” She disappeared, laughing, eyes crinkling, fez swaying.

The Doctor threw himself down in an armchair. “Well,” he told no-one in particular. “It’s a good thing I have an excellent pokerface.” 


End file.
